


A Lady Doesn't Judge

by allineedisaquill



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Advice, Anger, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Gay Character, Coming Out, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Julian is a giant dick basically, Punching, being outed, punch tories 2k20, unwillingly outed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allineedisaquill/pseuds/allineedisaquill
Summary: Julian crosses a line that sparks a heated confrontation between himself and an angry Captain. Fanny watches the whole thing unfold and, sensing the need to intervene, does exactly that. What results is a truly rare exchange indeed, one born of mutual respect, as the Captain is bestowed with the much-needed but unexpected wisdom of the Lady.Warning: Julian hints at Cap being gay at the start of this fic.It doesn't fully catch on to the others and the situation is remedied, but just a heads up.
Relationships: The Captain & Lady Fanny Button
Comments: 20
Kudos: 238





	A Lady Doesn't Judge

Julian was off on one of his anecdotes, and one of the more absurdly lewd ones at that. It was barely midday and Fanny had already had her fill, amply ready to return to her quarters as she listened to the disgraced man talk. He may have loved the sound of his own voice but that feeling was most certainly _not_ shared.

She sighed, exhaled a slow breath, and counted to ten in her head.

“Now. For this one, you need two men and a tub of butter. Could use margarine if you’re not fussy, but y’know, for this we’ll imagine it’s butter. The really salty stuff. So. You—”

“Would you shut up, Julian? For once in your life,” the Captain said tightly. His sharp tongue sent crackles through the air.

Fanny thanked the heavens that she wasn’t the only outspoken one in the group. The Captain had his uses, she’d give him that, and barking orders was one of them. A smirk slipped through her surly mask for the smallest moment. Leadership was one of the only things of which she and the Captain saw eye-to-eye, both ready for a call to action at a moment’s notice and not afraid to say what was necessary in order to wrangle the group accordingly.

Julian snorted. “Didn’t think you’d mind, of all people,” he said, motioning as if to dig his elbow into an invisible man’s side. The silence evolved like a gaping hole and all at once, it was stark that Julian’s words were a mistake.

Fanny shifted as subtly as she could in her spot on the sofa, sharp eyes on the pair as they stared each other out. She wasn’t sure her impending migraine could stand to see the two men squabble, but her curiosity was piqued. What on Earth did Julian mean to imply? It was lost on her but only just, slightly out of reach. She squinted, pursed her lips, and tried to make sense of it.

Whatever it was, she saw the Captain’s eyes twitch and his hands tighten on his drill stick, visibly affected by the MP’s offhanded quip. “Now, I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but you keep your defamatory mouth shut. Do you hear me, Fawcett? You’re nothing but a washed-up politician - and a _bad_ one at that.”

Fanny surveyed the common room with her eyebrows raised. Thomas snickered behind a dramatic sleeve from the back of a chair; Pat frowned at the floor, his moustache downturned; Kitty and Mary looked at each other in confusion; and Julian was, as with most things, unphased.

“Touched a nerve? I think so.” Julian bore a satisfied smirk, looking upon the rest of them like a poor jester who was far too pleased with his poor display. He couldn’t read the room if the mood became a hammer and hit him around his thick skull, and Fanny’s face wrinkled at the distasteful excuse of a man.

Pat stood up quickly, hands outstretched like he could suppress the agitation with them alone. “Guys, _please_ ,” he said insistently. “No fighting today.”

The Captain whipped his drill stick sharply through the air in Pat’s direction without so much as inclining his head. “With all due respect, Patrick, this is between Julian and I. _Sit down_.”

Pat did as he was told. Fanny expected as much; the only time Pat had been able to find his spine was when he thought he’d pass over directly afterwards. It was a pity, as she thought he could be quite an exemplary leader if only he’d learn to say how he really felt and stand up for himself. 

“Can’t handle a joke, Captain? You’ve made it obvious enough, but it’s not like anybody cares what way you swing.”

Fanny couldn’t exactly say she was surprised when the Captain’s closed fist made contact with Julian’s smug jaw, but the sound the collision made did make her wince. The others amongst them recoiled similarly, Pat and Kitty the most visibly upset by it all. In all her years in the Captain’s company, she’d never seen him so outraged and upset. His chest heaved beneath its heavy uniform. His hand remained balled at his side and the other clutched his drill stick until his knuckles turned white.

“Hey!” Robin shouted. He leapt to the middle of the two men, arms outstretched to put distance between them. “Only man who fight here is me. You stop, now.”

Julian held one hand up in surrender, the other woefully rubbing his face. “Charming. But shutting up then, have it your way,” he grumbled.

“About time,” the Captain hissed. “Who I am is none of your business. It’s none of _anybody’s_ business.” His quick eyes made rounds to them all, furious.

They were more than furious, Fanny saw. She recognised the acute fear beneath their blue glaze. It was the same look she had seen on her husband, George. The same fear of being caught, found out, _exposed_. All at once, as their gazes met, she understood just what had unfolded in her common room.

She understood, and she too was furious.

“Right, riff-raff,” she announced, on her feet in a blink. “Out. All of you.” One stern finger pointed straight at the open door as she huffed and tapped her foot impatiently. Pat ushered Kitty, Mary, and Thomas out, and Fanny was grateful for his excellent herding skills if nothing else. Robin reluctantly followed at their heels once it was clear the main action was over. “Go on, yes, that’s it. Especially you, you rotten man.”

The Captain looked insulted, poised ready to attack; volatile. His eyes were wide.

“Not you,” she clarified, before she finally brandished her finger at Julian, “ _you._ Out of my house, now, do you hear me? I don’t want to see or hear you until I say otherwise.”

Julian pulled a face. “Out of the house? Where am I meant to go, exactly? It’s my house too, you know.”

Fanny’s face was unsympathetic. “Please yourself, you wretched boy, but it was my house first. So out you go.”

With no choice but to oblige, Julian made himself scarce. Even his blasé saunter from the room made her wish she could launch an object at him. She was glad the Captain had made use of that urge with his fist, of all things.

“Now, Fanny, if you’re going to—” The Captain began.

“Be quiet for a moment,” Fanny cut him off. Her tone was harsh, which she hastily did her best to correct. She cleared her throat and carefully positioned herself back on the sofa seat, before she gestured to the space beside her with a nod of her head. “Now come and sit, before I lose my patience with you as well.”

The Captain’s mouth clamped shut at the abruptness. He did as she asked, though, crossing the small space and hitching his trousers up at the knees before he lowered himself to the sofa. He rested his drill stick across his lap but still gripped it tightly and his posture, while mirroring her own in perfect straightness, said about his current frame of mind what words couldn’t: he was tense, defensive, vulnerable. The soldier, always preparing for another attack. 

Little did he know he would get none from her. Not that day, at least. She did not doubt there would be other days where they’d be at odds, but thankfully this was not one of them.

“I never had a penchant for men like Julian Fawcett,” she said curtly. “A man does not carry on like that, the way he does. It was high time someone put him in his rightful place. Well played.” The final two words took on a warmer tone, and she leaned his way only barely, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

It seemed the Captain didn’t know how to react, confused and disbelieving at first before it gave way to cautious gratitude. He blinked. “Thank you. Though as it happens, most of the time we manage perfectly fine.”

Fanny wrinkled her nose. “Yes, I know. Don’t remind me or I may just have to lower my respect for you, which has only just increased from where it was. It would be a shame.” She turned a discrete but knowing smile his way. 

“Either way, I shan’t expect us to be bosom buddies again anytime soon.”

“I wouldn’t take that as a loss.” Fanny sighed. Talks of this nature were not her area of expertise; she’d hidden her own truth for long enough, for heaven’s sake. But she had learned a thing or two from her fellow ghosts, the more sensitive of them, and perhaps she could employ more tact than she’d been able to before. “What he was implying. If it is indeed what I think it is - and I am fairly sure it is - then I am quite sorry it had an audience. Julian may have lived his life cavorting and parading as if it were some novelty show, but I know you’re quite different. And I assure you, I offer you every respect that he did not.”

The Captain was quiet. Fanny saw, however, her words take root. First in how his fingers loosened their unrelenting hold on his stick, then in how his face warred with emotions, and finally in how his stiff posture slackened, slumped, released.

“I’m surprised,” he murmured. “From you, of everyone, given what your husband did. I’d assumed you’d have some preconceived notions about men like me. Men that like other men, that is. I expected a bias.”

“A lady doesn’t judge,” Fanny said, “and I shall try not to be offended by your appallingly low expectations of me.”

He barked out a laugh. “I’m afraid I don’t have enough hands to count the times I’ve seen you do that very thing. Yes you do judge. _Constantly_.”

Fanny found herself laughing - a real, genuine laughter that made her shoulders shake. “Yes, well,” she conceded, “perhaps on occasion, but here I don’t. Your secret is quite safe with me, and Button House remains your home. I will make certain of that, don’t you worry.”

“Well it’s hardly much of a secret _now_ , is it?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Not everyone here is as quick on the uptake as you and I. They can be as dense as the shrubbery in the gardens.” The Captain nodded in agreement, his eyebrows raised. “Not that it need be a secret, but it is safe with me regardless. My husband’s secret would have been safe with me, too, had he given me the chance. I knew before we married that he was of a different persuasion, but he was my friend and our time was one that required certain things, expected certain things - as yours did too, I’m sure.”

The Captain frown was deep and perplexed. “Well, yes, of course. But I don’t understand. He betrayed you, did he not? Right under your nose.”

With the man beside her laid so bare, Fanny found it much easier to place herself in the same position, on an even playing field rather than disproportionately weak. A deliberate show of vulnerability made her itch, though, the slip of control foreign and somewhat daunting, but above it all was the iron strength she prided herself on. She had a goal in mind and she intended to reach it. Carefully she took her discomfort and willed it away.

“It was only the act of distrust that left me violated,” she said with a despondent smile. “Had he not gone behind my back, arrangements could have been made that would have suited us both, but he never gave me that chance. He would have rather taken my life than trusted me, his supposed equal, with himself. _That_ was the real betrayal, and I can mask it in resentment for his eye wanting a man instead of myself, but nonetheless… there is the truth. One I haven’t shared with a soul until now.”

The Captain speechless was a rare feat. Fanny took that to mean her words had permeated his mind, and perhaps would make a permanent impact. She was, after all, far from inexperienced with the wars of doubt and loathing, of the need to shield oneself from the potential reprove of others. To the surprise of likely many, it left her particularly empathetic to those similarly in its clutches. As surly and strict as she could be, her solid core was not above bending when necessary. She had many facets, whether she chose to show those hands to the others or not. It didn’t mean they suddenly disappeared, were not a _part_ of her as a whole. Her skill set wasn’t restricted to reprimands and authority, broadened at a time in her life when she’d needed to nurture and care, too - she had been a mother, after all. Perhaps in the face of the Captain, seething and hurt, she had called back to a time when her own children had needed her the most. When they were afraid and weary. When they needed her steadfast guidance.

“So. It wasn’t… You don’t despise him for _who_ he had relations with? The men?”

Fanny looked out of the window ahead. “Ah. No. One doesn’t have to look far to see that it was never a new notion, even in my day. George was not the first. Neither are you. It isn’t offensive, Captain, if that’s what you’re asking of me. Perhaps others would be quick to disagree, but I believe it’s part of our nature. Beyond our control.”

“Yes,” the Captain said. He hung his head, his expression a battle between resigned sadness and frustration. “Others _would_ disagree.”

“Others,” Fanny said pointedly, “are hardly worth paying any mind.” 

She was met with a look, unconvinced.

With a sigh and some reluctance, Fanny reached over and took one of his larger hands in hers. Deliberate and firm, she squeezed the calloused fingers once as she leaned over the space. “As long as I am still the head of this household - and that seems like it will be an agonising eternity - you will hold your head up, no matter who it scorns or scandalises.” She released his hand no sooner had she grasped it, brushing the skirt of her dress down. “Don’t let me catch you feeling sorry for yourself. A man ought to have pride in himself, dignity and self-respect. Not a soul has the right to take that from you, understood? Take it from a lady who will strike sense and respect into anyone who needs it. You’d do well to learn from me.”

“I think I took care of the striking part already,” the Captain said with a wry grin. He flexed the hand she had held moments before.

“Indeed, but I’m quite serious.” She waited for a proper response.

The Captain gave one short nod and straightened himself. “Understood,” he said. “And...thank you. I’ve no idea what I expected when you sent that lot packing, but I assure you it wasn’t this.”

At that, Fanny let herself look pleased. Her chin tipped up, regal and affirmed. “That's quite alright. Never underestimate a lady,” she told him, but then her ever-sharp eyes zeroed in on his. If they were on the same page and her point had indeed gotten through, then she was ready to enjoy the rest of the evening easing off her terrible migraine. “Now, don’t you have somewhere else you can be? I’d like some peace and quiet.”

He raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t object or look insulted. “Yes, I suppose I do. Someone’s got to check on the riff-raff, as you called them. Make sure they’re not causing trouble.” He got to his feet and marched toward the door.

“Captain.”

“Yes?” He paused to look over his shoulder.

“Do keep them in line, won’t you?”

He smiled with his back to her, but she heard it in his voice. “Will do, ma’am,” he said, and the rare but genuine show of the utmost respect ensured that he would gleam in her books for the weeks that followed.

“Good,” she said with a pleased smile of her own. “Dismissed.”


End file.
